Strip Search
by bambers2
Summary: Sam and Dean take on a hunt that Sam is less than thrilled with after learning of three mysterious deaths. super SexySam and SexyDean... hurt both . . .you have been warned!
1. Chapter 1

_okay, so new story...totally gratuitous on my part...but, so far a fun story to write...enjoy!!_

_Strip Search_

_Chapter One_

"Dean, I'm not sure this is our kind of problem," Sam said, glancing at the building they were parked outside of.

"Three unexplained murders where the victims eyeballs appeared to be sucked out of the sockets, doesn't sound like our kind of problem to you, Sammy?" Dean raised a quizzical brow, a hint of humor in his green eyes.

"Could just be some crazed psycho killer." Opening his laptop, Sam pulled up the information he'd uncovered about the three deaths, studied it carefully, and then frowned. "Okay, it is our kind of problem, but I still don't want to do this."

"Since when haven't you wanted to take on a hunt?" Eying Sam, Dean chuckled.

"Since the idea of this particular hunt became so damn appealing to you."

"What can I say, dude, I've got hidden talents just beggin' to be explored." Dean opened the door, and stepped out of the Impala.

"Maybe you do, but I sure as hell don't," Sam grumbled, as he got out of the car, and slammed the door behind him. "Why can't we just do what we always do, break in after everyone is gone, case out the joint and find out what's going on?"

Dean strode away from Sam, calling back over his shoulder, "Place closes at like three in the morning, dude, when do you suppose we break in?" At the entrance of the building, he stopped and waited for Sam to catch up. After a few minutes, he turned and noticed Sam still standing by the car tapping his fingers on the roof. "Try picking up your feet, you might get here faster, Sammy. It's just another hunt, dude, no different from any other."

"Okay, but if I do this, you have to swear that when we're finished, we'll never talk about it again."

Dean raised two fingers, bending the rest. "Scout's honor."

"Yeah, like you were ever a Boy Scout."

"True, but I once kicked a Boy Scout's ass back in eighth grade. Does that count?"

"No, Dean. It doesn't count." Stalking to the entrance, Sam opened the door and went inside, and Dean followed. "Stop smirking, Dean," he called back to his brother.

"Wasn't smirking."

"Yeah, you were. Think this is so damn funny, don't you?"

"Think it has the potential for humor, yes, but I wasn't smirking. Chuckling to myself maybe, but not smirking."

"Whatever, dude." Sam stopped at the bar, and waited for the tall blonde behind the counter to glance up at him. After a few moments, he cleared his throat to gain her attention.

She looked up from her paperwork, and smiled. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah . . . um . . . no." Sam turned to leave, but Dean stopped him.

"We called earlier about the jobs you had advertised."

"Ah, you must be Dean, and he is Sam, right?" The woman came out from behind the counter, and sat on a bar stool. "My name's Karen, and I'm the owner and manager of the Hot Spot." As she spoke, Karen's gaze roved over both boys, and she smile appreciatively. "Have you ever done this kind of work before?"

"Yes."

"No."

Dean turned his head to look at Sam, his brows pulling together, and then returned his attention to her. "What my brother means to say, is that he hasn't actually _worked_ at it yet, but I've taught him everything I know." Putting his arm around Sam's shoulder, Dean squeezed his brother's arm. "Isn't that right, Sammy."

"Yeah, everything I know, Dean taught me," Sam said, a fake smile plastered to his face.

Karen was silent for a moment as she continued to appraise the boys, and then she nodded. "Okay, take off your shirts and pants."

"Come again," Sam asked incredulously, his brows raising considerably, and then turned to glare at Dean.

"Your shirt and pants, Sammy." Dean chuckled. "She wants to make sure her clientele get what they pay for."

Sam glanced at her, and held up an index finger. "Can you give us a sec, have to talk to my brother." Before Dean or Karen could say anything, Sam grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him away.

When he was sure they were out of earshot of Karen, Sam punched Dean in the shoulder. "Everything I know, dude. I don't dance, Dean, an' the last time I checked, neither did you."

Dean glanced in Karen's direction, bobbed his head toward her and smiled, and she returned the gesture. "How hard can it be, Sammy? It's not like anyone's really gonna be paying attention to how we dance anyway."

"So not the point, Dean." Sam shook his head, exasperated that his brother refused to listen to reason. "Last time I checked, hunting demons and spirits didn't involve taking off our clothes in front of a room full of women."

"It does when the last three victims of whatever this is, were male strippers who worked here."

Pursing his lips, Sam nodded. "Fine, Dean, we'll do this, but don't expect me to get up there on stage and dance, cause it's so not gonna happen."

"Awww . . . sure you will, Adonis."

"Adonis?"

"Your stage name, dude . . . mine's Ecstasy."

"You've given this way too much thought, dude," Sam said, and shaking his head, he stalked back to where Karen was sitting, and Dean followed.

"So, are you boys ready now or do you need a few more minutes?" Karen looked from Dean to Sam and then back again. "Cause I have a lot of work to do before the club opens in a few hours."

"Naw, we're good." Dean smiled and slowly, almost teasingly, began unbuttoning his flannel shirt. He eased out of one sleeve and then the other, exposing his taut muscular chest, and let the shirt slip to the floor.

Sam stared at him in disbelief as Dean unbuckled his belt, and slowly pulled it through the belt loops. Flexing his pecs, Dean trailed his fingers down his muscular chest, and undid his jeans, easing them off at a leisurely pace, then stepped out of them.

"Very nice." Karen nodded in approval. "Rock hard abs, nice pecs, sexy, rugged face," she twirled her index finger, "turn around."

Spreading his arms, Dean slowly pivoted, stopping briefly so she could look him over, and then faced her again.

"Oh, yeah, the girls are gonna love you." She smiled, then turned to Sam. "Now you."

Clearing his throat, Sam turned his head to look at her, and smiled awkwardly, then glanced back at Dean, and gave a slight shake of his head.

"Come on, Sammy, she hasn't got all day. Show her those sexy abs." Dean nudged his head in her direction as he gave Sam a look of warning.

Sam returned his attention to Karen. Unbuttoning each button of his flannel shirt with one hand, Sam then shrugged it of his muscular shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. Karen's green-eyed gaze roved over his firm flat abs as he undid the button on his jeans and eased out of them. He pivoted slowly and allowed her to look him over, and grimaced at Dean when he saw him smirking.

"Gotta say, I'm not disappointed. When can you boys start?" The grin on Karen's face slid away, a sad frown replacing it. "Normally, I would want to check into your backgrounds first, but I'm kinda desperate what with all the bad things going on around here. Lost two more dancers this morning, after they heard Johnny is now missing."

"Missing?" Both Sam and Dean said simultaneously, both forgetting momentarily that they were standing there in their boxers.

"Yeah, he left here two nights ago, and no one has heard from him since." Karen worriedly bit at her lower lip. "The police have no leads, and what with three deaths, they're threatening to shut the place down."

"Did you happen to notice anything strange occurring around here before the three murders?" Dean asked, trying his best to sound casual as he bent and snatched his shirt off the floor.

"No, not really." Karen hesitated, then she glanced in the direction of the back of the bar. "Well, that's not exactly true. Several times, someone has written, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, on the bathroom mirrors."

Sam and Dean eyed each other for a moment, before returning their attention to her.

"What did the police say about it?" Sam asked as he pulled on his jeans and buttoned them. He then bent and grabbed his shirt, pulled it on, and buttoned it.

"Didn't tell them." She lowered her head, clasping her fingers together, and Sam could tell she was ashamed at having kept the secret. "I know it sounds horrible, but I can't afford to have them close the place down. I've sunk every last penny I have into this bar, and if they close it, I'll lose everything."

"I'm sure it meant nothing, Karen," Dean placated her as he slipped on his jeans. "Look, we have to get going, but we can start as soon as possible."

"How about tonight?" Karen glanced up at Dean, a hopeful look on her face.

"Sure, tonight is good for us, isn't it, Sammy?"

"Yeah, the sooner the better," Sam replied, still thinking about what someone or something had scrawled on the mirror.

"Okay, see ya tonight around eight o'clock."

"We'll be here," Dean said.

The boys walked away, and when they were outside they both turned back to look at the place.

"Vengeful spirit?" Dean asked.

"Don't know, Dean. I'm thinkin' it has something to do with their eyes."

Dean nodded. "Beauty's in the eye of the beholder. Something that wanted to take revenge out on them because of how they looked?"

"Not sure." Sam swung, and headed for the car, and Dean strode after him. "They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. Maybe this thing looked into their eyes and saw their soul and didn't like what it saw."

"Huh . . . a vengeful spirit with a moral conscience." Dean shook his head. "I don't know, Sammy."

"Well, it's all we have to go on for now, until we do some more digging."

"Okay, let's head to the library and find out more about this land."

XxXxXxXxXxX

_Gratuitous, yes, but who wouldn't want to see Sam and Dean as male strippers!! almost too much hotness to think about!!! let me know what you think!! bambers;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, so this chappy is very steamy!! cold showers are in order afterward!! hope everyone enjoys!! tell me what you think!!_

_Chapter Two_

Dean nudged Sam on the arm, and handed him a cup of coffee. Glancing over his brother's shoulder, Dean asked, "Find anything, yet?"

"Yeah, actually found quite a bit." Sam gestured at the computer screen, and then craned his head to look at Dean. "Up to about nine years ago, there was a church called Saint Christies where the Hot Spot is now." Sam took a sip of the steaming liquid, swallowed it, and continued, "It burned to the ground, and the police believed it to be arson."

"Any suspects?" Dean sat beside Sam, moving a pile of books out of the way so he could rest his arms on the table.

"Yeah, one person. Her name was Agnes Pines. They held her for questioning, but had to let her go due to lack of substantiating evidence."

"Was? She's dead?"

Sam's fingers moved deftly across the keyboard, and he brought up an old newspaper article on the screen. "No one knows for sure what happened to her. She disappeared about a six years ago." He lightly touched the screen, pointing to the part of the article that had caught his interest. "Agnes wrote several articles for the paper, speaking out against Saint Christies, saying the eyes of the church were closed to the sins of the flesh."

"Sounds like our girl."

Sam nodded. "Funny thing is, you'll never guess who owned the land before it was sold to Karen."

"Agnes?"

"Yep."

"So, Agnes who denounced the church for immorality, owned the land the Hot Spot is built on. Sounds like the kind of thing that would piss off a spirit."

"That's what I thought," Sam said, gulping down more of his coffee.

Dean mopped his hand across his face as he contemplated what Sam had learned, but something just didn't add up. "If she was missing, how was Karen able to buy the land from her?"

"Agnes' younger brother Jerry had her declared legally dead about a year ago, and inherited her substantial fortune. First thing he did afterwards was to sell the land."

"So you're thinkin' he killed Agnes to inherit her fortune, and then dumped her body somewhere on that land."

"Yeah, only thing is where."

Glancing at the clock on the library wall, Dean pushed back his chair, and stood. "We better get going, we don't want to be late for work."

Sam stayed rooted to his seat, not looking at his brother as he said, "I was thinkin' maybe I should stay here and research the property a little more thoroughly. Both of us don't need to work there."

"Naw, dude, you're my backup, I wouldn't dream of workin' there without you." Dean grinned as he saw Sam shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Really don't want to do this, Dean."

"Ah, it will be good for you, Sammy, maybe make you loosen up a bit."

"Don't need to be that loose, Dean." Sam grimaced as he turned off the computer, stood and followed Dean to the car. "Don't see why I can't just wait tables or something. I can do waiting tables."

Dean held the door open for Sam and cuffed him on the back of the head good-naturedly as he passed through. "What an' have all those women miss out on all that Sammy sexiness? Just wouldn't be right."

Sam glared at him for a moment, then strode away in a huff, got in the car and slammed the door. When Dean slid into the seat next to him, Sam was looking out the side window, brooding. Starting the engine, Dean pulled out of the parking lot, and headed toward the Hot Spot.

Casting a sidelong glance in his brother's direction, Dean couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. "It's not gonna be that bad, Sammy," Dean tried reassuring him. "Hell, I'll go first if you want."

"So not making me feel any better about this, dude," Sam said, without turning to look at Dean.

Dean knew nothing he could say would make Sam alter his feelings on the matter, so he changed the subject. "So how do you think ol' Agnes picks her victims?"

"Don't know Dean, could be eye color, could be something she sees in them. Hell, it could be any one of a hundred different reasons." Sam rubbed his eyes, his head starting to throb, stomach churning the closer they got the bar.

Scratching the back of his head, Dean ruffled his fingers through his short scruffy hair as he thought of all the possible reasons why Agnes would choose her victims. "Maybe they somehow stumbled upon her grave."

"Could be, there's like forty acres of wooded land attached the property. So if they did, it must be in a spot they would've all known about."

"Okay, so we ask around tonight, maybe there's a house or some other kind of building on the property they might've gone to."

"All right."

Both boys rode the rest of the way in near silence, Dean drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, humming along to Metallica's _Wherever I May Roam_, and Sam staring out the window, shifting restlessly in his seat. They pulled into the parking lot just as it was starting to get dark outside, and saw that it was already filling up with cars.

Dean parked the car in the side lot, got out and waited for Sam. After standing there for several minutes, he strode to the passenger's side, opened the door, and bobbed his head in the direction of the bar. "Come on, Adonis, the girls are waiting for ya."

Reluctantly, Sam slid out of the car, and Dean shut the door behind him. "Don't call me that again . . . and you _are _dancing first."

"Not a problem, Sammy."

They strode past a group of women lining up to get inside the night club, entered the building, and searched around the darkened room for Karen. Sidling up to the bar, they found her behind the counter talking to another woman.

She glanced up at them, and smiled. "Hey guys, you're just in time."

"Wouldn't want to be late our first night." Dean grinned as Sam looked at the stage nervously.

Sam swallowed hard seeing the multicolored strobe lights flash, and then dimmed and changed to white as a man practiced his routine on stage. Soft billowing steam rose from the center of the stage, enshrouding the dancer as he eased out of his shirt. Seeing more than enough, Sam turned to look at Karen.

"Can I get a shot of Jager?" Sam asked, his voice strained.

"Sure, hun." Karen poured him a shot, and Sam downed it, cringing slightly as it burned his throat. "Another?" she asked, and Sam nodded. Karen poured him another shot, and he downed that one as well. "First night jitters . . . I've seen it before that's why I'm having you go first, Sam. Helps get rid of the tension."

Sam jerked a thumb toward Dean. "Thought he would go first." He turned to glare at his brother, and Dean shrugged.

"No, we like to showcase our new talent first, then move on to the seasoned vets. Dean you can wait tables until you go on." She gestured toward the backstage area. "Dean said your costumes had been stolen, but we have tons of things you can choose from back there to wear."

"Our costumes, Dean?" Sam cast an angry glare in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, you remember how they were stolen out of the back of the Impala . . . told Karen on the phone earlier how you always like to dress like a cowboy and she has just the outfit for you."

"Oh, that's real good, Dean, cause I wouldn't want to get up there on stage dressed like anything else," Sam said sarcastically, pursing his lips and shaking his head.

"See I know you so well, Sammy." Dean smirked.

"Do you boys have your own music or did that get stolen also?" Karen interrupted, and both boys turned to look at her.

"Need music too," Dean quickly supplied.

"All right, Sam, I'll take you backstage so you can find something to wear and pick out some music." She snatched a clear bag off the counter and handed it to Dean. "Here is your uniform for waiting tables, Dean. You can change in the bathroom."

"Gotcha."

Gesturing for Sam to follow, Karen made her way around the bar and headed toward backstage.

Swallowing hard, Sam turned to Dean, and glared at him. "You're so dead, dude," he uttered, and hearing Dean chuckle, he hurried to catch up to Karen.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Sam stood backstage looking at himself in the mirror as he listened to the music Karen had picked out for him, trying to imagine just what the hell he was supposed to do. He glanced in the direction of two dancers practicing their routines. He tried moving his body the way he saw them doing it, but felt awkward and stupid. _Dean, I'm so gonna kick you ass for this. _

Karen came backstage, looked him up and down, and nodded in approval. "You're gonna knock them dead, Sam."

_Yeah, if I don't throw up all over them first._ His stomach churned violently as Karen lead him to the stage. The curtain was drawn, leaving the stage area in near darkness as she pointed to a chair for him to sit on.

"Just take a deep breath, Sam, you'll do fine," she said, but he could barely hear her above the sounds of women talking loudly from beyond the curtain, and the sound of his own rapid heartbeat in his ears. Taking a seat center stage, he waited for the curtain to pull back.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Dean smiled appreciatively as a pretty brunette slowly ran her fingers down his bare chest and tucked his tip in the tight fitting black leather pants Karen had given him to wear. "Thanks." He turned to walk away and she grabbed his butt. _Huh . . . and I thought guys were bad._

Hearing the MC announce Sam, Dean turned to look as the curtains drew back. Fake rainwater showered down over his little brother as Sam was bathed in a warm amber light. Sam sat in a chair, legs spread out to the sides, wearing a tight black muscle t-shirt and equally tight fitting black leather pants. He wore a tan cowboy hat pulled low over his brow.

The music started and Sam slowly ran his fingers up the length of his thighs.

_Ten, kiss me on the lips . . . ._

He touched his lips then trailed his fingers down his chest, rolling his head.

_Nine, run you fingers through my hair . . . ._

Bringing his hands back upward, Sam brushed them across his cheeks, then pushed off the cowboy hat and ran his fingertips through his hair, as he softly mouthed the words to the song.

_Eight, touch me . . . slowly . . . slowly . . ._

He arched his back, his hands sliding down over his muscular chest. He leaned forward to look at the crowd, a hungry almost wanton look in his hazel eyes as he licked his lips, and the women watching went crazy, shouting to him and rushing toward the stage.

Easing off the chair, Sam's hand slid to the back of his rain drenched hair, and he leaned backward, rolling his abs snakelike, his hips moving with the slow seductive beat of the music.

_Seven . . . hold it . . . let's go straight to number one . . . to number one . . . number one . . . to number one . . . ._

Sam grabbed the sides of his black t-shirt and slowly tore it off his taut muscular chest, and the cheers from the crowd grew even louder. A young blonde rush the stage and he wrapped his arms around her as he continued to move his hips. Slowly, he released her, and she tucked a tip in his pants, before running back off the stage.

_Six_, _lips . . . ._

His hands trailed down further and slid between the tight fitting leather and his glistening skin. Rolling his head to rest on his shoulders, Sam leaned back as he continued to move his hips to the music, and then he slowly eased himself back up.

_Five, fingers . . . ._

Undoing the button on his pants, Sam eased them down, stopping when they sat very low on his hips, and then trailed his fingers back up his chest. A crowd of women rushed forward, all vying for a spot to put tips in his g-string.

_Four, play . . . . _

He ran both hands through his hair. Droplets of water ran down his face, and glistened on his chest as women's hands roved over his rock hard abs.

_Three . . . to number one . . . to number one . . . number one . . . to number one . . ._

The women backed away as Sam grabbed hold of the waist of a pretty brunette and leaned into her, his body slowly moving back and forth against hers. He trailed his tongue down the length of her neck and then released her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him firmly on the lips, and then ran back to her seat.

_Kiss me on the lips . . . run your fingers through my hair . . . touch me . . . lets go straight to number one . . . to number one . . . number one . . . slowly, to number one . . . .touch and go to number one . . . ._

Easing his hands back down over his taut chest, Sam grabbed the sides of his pants as he arched his back and continued to roll his hips. Slowly, the snaps at the sides came undone and the pants slipped to the floor. Sam lowered himself back down onto the chair, rested his hands on his thighs, licked his lips, and then rolled his head backward to rest on the his shoulders.

The crowd went wild, women all rushing toward him as the music came to an end. Dean stood, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at his brother as women practically threw money at him. _Damn, he wasn't supposed to be good at it._

Dean hurriedly made his way backstage to wait for Sam, and after about five minutes, his little brother came strolling back, counting his money, a wide smile plastered to his face. Sam sauntered by Dean on his way to change, the grin never leaving his face. Quickly following after him, Dean caught up to him in the changing room.

"Dude, where did all that writhing around up on stage come from?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno, maybe I'm just a natural."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "God, you looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there."

"Kinda was."

"You weren't supposed to."

Sam shrugged again, his grin deepening. "Maybe I'm more like you then I thought."

"You aren't that much like me." Dean threw Sam's jeans at him. "And or God sake, dude, put some clothes on. Seeing you in a g-string just isn't natural."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

okay, so i'm a Sammygirl and just had to indulge myself!!! hope everyone enjoyed!!!

Song title...Straight to Number One by Touch and Go


	3. Chapter 3

_okay this one is for the Dean girls!! hope you enjoy!!! thanks for reading!!_

_Chapter Three_

Sam changed into a pair of black leather pants just like Dean's, and headed out to the bar area to wait tables, while Dean changed into his costume. As Sam made his way through the crowd, someone grabbed a hold of his arm.

"Johnny?" she shouted above the blaring music.

He swung to face her, and saw a look of surprise cross her features.

"Um . . . sorry, thought you were . . . ." her voice trailed off as she eyed him more closely. "Are you Johnny's younger brother?"

"No," Sam responded, and was ready to walk away, but she stopped him.

"You're not trying to cover for him cause you could definitely be his brother. Same shaggy brown hair, and beautiful hazel eyes."

"No, I just — " He was about to say that he'd just started working there, but then thought about Agnes and the three victims with their eyes missing. "When was the last time you saw Johnny?"

"Four days ago. Why?"

"He's been missing for the past three days." Sam inclined his head toward the entrance of the bar. "Want to go outside and talk, hard to hear you in here."

She seemed reluctant to do so at first, but then finally nodded in agreement. Taking hold of her hand, Sam lead her out of the building, and away from the people milling around at the door. When they were out of earshot of everyone, Sam let go of her hand, and turned to look at her.

"What do mean, missing?" she said, her deep brown eyes filling with concern. "No one's heard from him?"

"No, and I think you may have been the last person to see him. Did he seem okay to you at the time?"

Biting worriedly at her lower lip, she lowered her head, and thought about it for a moment, before saying, "He seemed real tired and agitated the last time I saw him. Said something about someone watching him."

"Watching him?" Sam eyes narrowed, brows pulling together.

"Yeah, the last time he worked, Johnny left the stage halfway through his performance and refused to come back out. He said — " she hesitated, glancing up at him, and Sam could see she was trying to figure out the right words to tell him what Johnny had told her. She crossed her arms, and shivered although it was actually quite warm outside. "Don't know how to say this without it coming out sounding like he was crazy."

"What did he say?" Sam said, using his most placating tone as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Believe me, I won't think he's crazy."

"He . . . he said, there was something in the audience watching him. Told me that whatever it was, it didn't have any eyes . . . said they were all hollowed out and that there was blood dripping from them." She looked up into his eyes, and then shrugged. "I know sounds crazy right?"

Sam shook his head. "No, not crazy. Maybe he did see something."

"You actually believe him?" she gave him a quizzical look, and then moved to stand away from him.

"Just saying that he must've saw something, right?"

"I dunno." She hitched her thumb back toward the entrance, and slowly started heading in that direction. "Look, I gotta get back inside or my friends will start getting worried."

"Yeah, all right. I have to be getting back to work anyway." He followed her back inside, but before she could get lost in the crowd of screaming women, he grabbed her arm to stop her. "If you can think of anything else he might've told you, can you let me know . . . my name's Sam by the way."

"I'm Cindy." She smiled as she tucked her long brown wavy curls behind her ears. "I'll let you know, Sam, but I thinks that's pretty much all he told me."

"Thanks, Cindy." He let go of her arm and she walked away, and he soon lost sight of her in the shuffle.

Making his way through the crowd, Sam headed backstage and found Dean staring at pictures of the dancers plastered to the wall.

"Dean," he called out to his brother, and Dean glanced in his direction.

"Hey, Sammy, come take a look at these."

Sam strode over to where his brother was standing, and looked up at the wall full of photos.

Dean gestured to three of them, and then turned to Sam. "Those are the three men who died." He pointed to another portrait. "And that's Johnny. Notice anything about them?"

Staring at them for a moment, he replied, "Yeah, they all look a little like me, Dean."

"Yeah, same hazel eyes, same long brown hair . . . hell, anyone of them could be your brother."

"So maybe it doesn't have so much to do with their eyes, but what they looked like?" Sam looked at the pictures again, noticing a lot of the men had similar features. He shook his head. "There has to be more to it than that, Dean." He went on to explain what Cindy had told him, and Dean nodded in understanding.

"So she was watching them before she attacked." Dean scrubbed his hand across his face as he thought about what Sam had said. "So we're back to there being something about them that made her want to kill them."

"They had to have done something to set them apart from the others."

"Look," Dean jerked his thumb in the direction of the stage, "I have to go on in like five minute, so we'll talk about this later."

Sam looked his brother up and down, and smirked. "Nice costume by the way."

"Yeah, kinda suits me, doesn't it?"

"If you say so."

"I do, Sammy," Dean said, putting on his black aviator sunglasses, then strode away from Sam toward the stage.

Dean drew back the curtain enough to look out at the throng of women, and then let the velvety material slip from his grasp. He quickly thought over all the things he'd seen the other dancers doing, trying to figure out the moves he thought he could manage to do without looking like a complete idiot. _Damn, can't have Sammy upstage me. I'll never hear the end of it._

"Dean." Karen came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "They just finished setting out the prop you requested, so you better get up on stage."

"Thanks, Karen," Dean uttered, suddenly not feeling so well.

"Anytime." She turned to leave, and then swung back. "You're bother was awesome, by the way. And if he learned it all from you, can't wait to see what you have in store for us."

"Yeah . . .um . . . everything I know." His stomach lurched uncomfortably. "It'll definitely be interesting to say the least."

"Okay, well then I'll see you afterwards." She gestured toward the stage. "Better get up there." Karen turned and strolled away.

_Yeah, definitely interesting . . . I'm so gonna make an ass outta myself._

XxXxXxXxXxX

Sam was shifting through the crowd with a tray of drinks when he heard the MC announce his brother, and stopped dead in his tracks, a smirk on his face, waiting to see Dean make a fool out of himself.

The curtains drew back, and misty smoke rose from the stage. The shrill sound of police sirens, filled the room as red and blue lights flashed across the stage, before turning to white, and Sam saw his brother.

Dean leaned into the seat of the black motorcycle they'd wheel on stage for him, with hands on thighs, waiting for his music to cue. The moment the hard rocking song started playing, Dean tapped both heels against the ground to the beat of the music, and rolled his body around in a circle, and then arching his back, he rolled forward, and then slowly eased his way up again.

_Back in black. I hit the sack. I've been too long, I'm glad to be back. . . ._

Pressing his hand against the seat of the motorcycle, he stood, arching his spine and rolling his abs snakelike. Running his fingers through his hair, he rested his hand on the back of his head as he leaned further, pelvis thrusting back and forth to the rhythm of the music. His fingers trailed down the side of his face and neck, slowly caressing his muscular chest.

_Yes, I'm let loose. From the noose. That's kept me hanging about. I've been looking at the sky 'cause it's gettin' high. Forget the hearse cause I never die. . . . _

Dropping to his knees, Dean took off his black sunglasses and tossed them into the crowd. Slowly circling his shoulders, he slipped out of his black leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Falling forward onto his outstretched hands, he crept forward with predatorlike grace, his sexy green-eyed gaze never straying from the audience, and the crowd went wild.

_I got nine lives. Cat's eyes. Abusin' every one of them and running wild . . . ._

Easing once more onto his knees, Dean leaned back until his head nearly touched the ground, rolling his taut abs, he ran his hand up the length of his stomach and chest.

'_Cause I'm back in black. Yes, I'm back_._ Well, I'm back. Yes, I'm back. Well, I'm back, back. Well, I'm back in black. Yes, I'm back in black . . . ._

Tightening his ab muscles, he arched forward back onto his knees, and gripped onto the collar of his white t-shirt, and slowly ripped it off his chest, letting it slip to the floor. Easing to his feet, he rolled his shoulders, leaning back and moving his hips to the music. Eyeing a woman in the audience, he bit at his lower lip, a sexy seductive look in his green eyes as he pointed to her. Curling his finger, he gestured for her to come on stage. The tall, sexy redhead ran up to him, and Dean grabbed hold of her. Leaning back, he moved his body against hers, then eased back up, trailing his tongue up the length of her neck, he kissed her on the lips, then let her go. She grabbed hold of him, kissed him again, and then ran off stage.

_Back in the back. Of a Cadillac. Number one with a bullet, I'm a power pack. Yes I'm in a bang,. With a gang, they've got to catch me if they want me to hang . . . . _

Pressing flat hands against his thighs, he slowly dragged them up the length of his glistening lean muscular body, mouthing the words to the song.

_Cause I'm back on the track. And I'm beatin' the flack. Nobody's gonna get me on another __rap. . . ._

He stalked into the audience, climbed onto a table, and dropped to his knees, rolling his muscular abs. Women surrounded the table, groping at his chest and stomach as he leaned back, continuing to move his stomach snakelike as women tucked money in his tight black leather pants. Easing his way back up, Dean rocked back and forth, his head bobbing to the hard rocking beat. Making his way back to his feet, Dean leapt off the table, and the women went nuts, screaming and begging him to come back as he made his way to the stage.

_So look at me now. I'm just makin' play. Don't try to push your luck just get out of my way. . . ._

Slowly, he unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of the loops and tossed it aside. Unbuttoning his pants, his hand slid between the leather and his skin. He then slowly slid his fingers up the length of his muscular stomach and chest, brushed them across his cheek and raked them through his short scruffy hair as he continued to move his hips to the music.

_Well, I'm back. Yes, I'm back. Well, I'm back. Yes, I'm back. Well, I'm back, back. Well, I'm back in black. Yes, I'm back in black . . . ._

His hands trailed back down his chest as Dean rolled his stomach and gripped the sides of his jeans and tore them from his body, and the crowd screamed, rushing toward him. Dropping to his knees again, he bit at his lower lip as he rolled his head, running his hands through his hair.

_Hooo yeah. Ohh yeah. Yes I am. Oooh yeah, yeah oh yeah. Back now. Well I'm back, I'm back. Back, I'm back. Back, I'm back. Back, I'm back. Back, I'm back. Back. Back in black. Yes I'm back in black . . . Out of sight. . . ._

Leaning backward til his head almost touched the ground, he rocked his body to the music and the rolled his hips. He eased his way back up, dragging his fingers up his thighs, glistening abs and chest as he gazed wantonly into the crowd. He leapt to his feet, strode to the motorcycle, straddled it and as the music ended he raised his hand in a fist and mouthed out the last words of the song.

Sam caught his brother's gaze as women rushed the stage toward him. Dean smirked at him, raising his brow considerably, pointed to himself, and mouthed the words, _"Try and top that, Sammy."_

Sam shook his head in astonishment. _I'm so never gonna hear the end of this. _

_XxXxXxXxXxX_

_song: Back in Black by AC/DC_


	4. Chapter 4

_sorry this took so long to post...hope everyone enjoys!! bambers;)_

_Chapter Four_

Sam slunk down in the front seat of the Impala with eyes closed, exhausted from his first night at work. Dean on the other hand was wide-eyed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to _Back in Black_ playing on the radio, and it was really starting to grate on Sam's nerves.

"You mind, Dean? Some of us are trying to unwind a bit."

"What are you still pissed cause I was better than you?" Dean chuckled as he lowered the music.

Sitting up in his seat, Sam cast a sidelong glance at his brother. "You're kiddin' right?"

"Nope."

"Who made more money, Dean?"

"Who got more phone numbers?"

Sam shook his aching head in disbelief, and rubbed his tired eyes. "Dude, I made like fifty bucks more than you, and fake phone numbers don't count."

"They so count, Sammy, and you only made like twenty more than me."

Staring at him for a moment, Sam burst out laughing. "You just can't stand it that I was better than you."

"You weren't better than me, dude." Dean turned to look at him for a moment, and arched a brow. "And what the hell was that music you were dancing to anyway?"

Sam squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, and turned to look out the side window, slightly embarrassed by the song Karen had chosen for him to dance to. "You should talk, Dean. Only you could make stripping into a mullet rock event."

"No one seemed to be complaining."

"Maybe you couldn't hear them cause you were too busy jumping off tables and writhing around on the floor." Sam chuckled. "But if you had to dance to a slow song like I did, you would so totally make a fool of yourself."

"Wanna bet?" They both turned to look at each other, and a smile slid across Dean's features. "I'll dance to a slow song if I can pick a song for you to dance to, and we'll see who the girls like better."

"Fine by me, Dean, but only if I get to pick the song you dance to."

"Bring it on, Sammy." Dean's grin deepened as he thought of the perfect song for Sam to dance to. "I get to pick your costume out."

"Whatever, dude, as long as I get to pick yours too."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Sam awoke to find Dean already awake, sipping coffee at the small table in their motel room.

Already dressed, Dean looked as if he'd been up for quite a while. Sam glanced at the clock and saw it was only going on seven o'clock in the morning. Sitting up in bed, Sam raked his fingers through his hair, brushing his shaggy bangs out of his eyes, and yawned, gaining Dean's attention.

"Get any sleep, Dean."

"Yeah, some. Was thinkin' about Agnes and what caused her to kill those men," he said, and gestured to a cup of coffee on the table. Sam got out of bed, strode to a chair next to Dean and took a seat.

"So, what were you thinkin'?"

Dean gulped down some of his drink, and then pointed to several photos that were scattered on the table. "Took these last night."

"Why?" Sam said, picking up the picture of Johnny, and quickly looked it over.

"Notice anything strange about it?"

"Not really."

"Look closer."

San studied it more carefully, and noticed a light gray shadow surrounding Johnny. He then picked up the other two and saw the same thing. "What is that? A trick of the light?"

"I'm thinking that's Agnes."

"Huh, caught on film. Almost like she wanted them to know she was watching."

"Kinda looks that way." Dean slid another picture toward Sam. "This guy here is the only other one I could find who had the same gray shadow in his photo. Name's Keith Rivers, and he's been working at the club for about two months."

Sam picked it up, noticing how the shadow seemed to enshroud the man who was probably only about a year or two younger than Dean. "So, three men dead, one missing, and this guy." Throwing the picture back in the pile with the others, Sam scrubbed his hand across his face. "What do they have in common besides working at the bar, and looking similar in appearance?"

"Dunno, Sam." He gestured toward Sam. "Why don't you go an' get dressed and we'll head over to the club, an' take a look around."

Sam yawned again, clasping his hands and stretching them high above his head, working out the kinks in his back. "Yeah, okay. Maybe we'll get lucky an' no one will be there this early."

"Never know."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

A little over an hour later, Sam and Dean pulled up in front of the Hot Spot, noticed two police cars, along with a blue pickup truck, already in the parking lot, and quickly drove further down the street. Parking on a side street that bordered the land belonging to Karen, they both got out.

Sam leaned against the car, and in a few moments Dean came around to his side, and did the same. They were both quiet for a few seconds, and then Sam asked the question he knew was on both their minds. "So you think Agnes killed Keith?"

"Either that, or those officers are there for a private show, and I'm glad I'm not working." Dean pretended to shudder, and then cracked a toothy grin.

"So not funny, dude." Sam glanced in the direction of the club, just making out the faint outline of the building through the trees. "So what do we do now? Come back later?"

"Naw, lets take a look around the property. See if we can find Agnes' grave."

Together, they entered the wooded area, trampling over weeds, overgrown brush, fallen limbs, and wild flowers, searching for any signs of a grave or footprints left behind by anyone who worked at the club. Not finding any, they widened their search, heading northeastward toward the furthest niches of the property certain that there had to be something hidden in the overgrown forest.

Scarcely a hundred yards from the edge of the property, nestled in and amongst the trees, Dean spotted the outline of an old abandon house, and inclined his head toward it. "So Agnes did have a house here at one time."

"Yeah, but it's kinda far back, don't ya think? Not a place anyone would just happen to stumble upon."

"It would make it a good place to hide a body then."

As they drew closer to the rundown old home, graying with age and decay, the air around them turned bitterly cold, a stiff breeze rustling through the bowing branches.

"Think that could be Agnes?" Dean asked as he headed up the front steps.

"Could be."

"Watch your step, Sammy." He pointed toward the sagging, rotted wood on the first two steps. Cautiously stepping over them, he pressed his foot onto the third one to make sure it was safe, and finding that it seemed fairly secure, he grabbed the wooden handrail and leapt up onto it. It sagged under his weight, but held and he quicky took the last two steps to the landing and waited for Sam.

As Sam stepped up on the third step, they both heard a loud crack, and before he had a chance to move the stair gave way beneath him, his foot lodging in the splintered wood.

"Sonuva — "

"Told you to watch your step, dude." Dean chuckled as Sam continued to let out a string of curse words under his breath. His laughter faded as Sam yanked out his foot and grimaced in pain. "You okay?" he asked, grabbing hold of Sam's arm and helped him onto the landing.

"Yeah, just twisted my ankle."

Sam limped to the door that was hanging on its hinges and pushed it open, and stood there peering into the darkened room. Dusty red velvet curtains hung in thick folds on black wrought iron rods, effectively blocking out any sunlight in what once might have been considered the great room of the two story dwelling. Cobwebs filled the archways leading from room to room, and a mantle of dust at least a half inch thick covered the old broken down furniture that remained.

Yanking the flashlight out of his pocket, Sam turned it on and aimed it toward the ground, and gestured at all the footprints along the hardwood floors. "Guess you were right. Looks like a lot of people have been here."

"So, they came here, disturbed her final resting place, and she came after them?" Dean headed further into the house, stopping at a desk that sat in the furthest corner of the room. Old pamphlets and papers, torn and yellowed with age were scattered across the scarred wooden surface, and he curiously began leafing through them. "I don't know, Sam, seems like there would be more to it than that. After all, her victims looked a helluva lot alike."

"Dean." Sam bobbed his head toward the fireplace, and sitting on the ledge above it, they both noticed several picture frames. Hobbling to it, Sam picked one up, dusted it off on his jacket, and then directed the narrow beam of light from his flashlight on it. "Hey, dude, come take a look at this."

Dean's long strides carried him across the creaking floor in a matter of seconds, and he took the picture from Sam. "Huh, looks like our boy, Jerry, has a lot in common with all the dead guys."

"That's what I thought." Sam nodded in agreement. "Same dark hair, same build and hazel eyes. She must be killing off people who remind her of her brother."

Dean set the picture back on the mantlepiece, scrubbed his hand across his face, and turned to look at Sam. "So brother dearest killed Agnes and now she's seeking revenge."

"Yep."

"And we have to find her remains and salt and burn them."

"Uh huh."

"Which could be pretty much anywhere."

"True." Sam agreed with a single nod of his head.

"Any suggestions where to start?"

"Nope, was planning on following your lead on this one."

"Well, I ain't got any. So unless you want to be stripping until you're like forty, I suggest you start using that geekboy brain of yours to figure out where Jerry would bury Agnes."

Sam blanched considerably hearing that, and hastily considered all the possibilities. "Think she has to be somewhere around here. Why don't you take a look around in here, and I'll check out back?"

Dean hesitated for a moment, and Sam was sure he knew why, and his suspicions were confirmed with Dean's next words.

"Alright, but be careful. You look too much like Jerry for her not to want to come after you."

"I will."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Sam waded through the waist deep grass, veering around small overgrown bushes and pine trees, searching for any signs of a grave. After only a few minutes, he quickly determined it would be extremely difficult if not impossible to find an unmarked grave if it was indeed somewhere in the backyard of Agnes' home.

He was about to turn back and go inside to find Dean when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an old stone structure nearly buried by grass and weeds. Figuring he might as well check it out while he was there, Sam trudged his way over to it, and discovered it was an old well.

A flat circular stone covered the surface of the crumbling structure. In places, stones had broken away and lay on the ground. Sam squat in front of one of the holes and flashed his light inside, but couldn't see anything beside the side of the wall. A stiff cool breeze coming from inside the well, ruffled his hair and sent a chill down his spine.

At nearly the same time, he heard the sound of stone scrapping and stone, and by the time he glanced up the heavy cover had slid halfway across the opening of the well. Sam quickly stood and bent over to look inside, the beam of his flashlight reflecting on a swirl of white rising from deep below.

In a rush of frigid air, the spirit burst through the circular opening, nearly knocking Sam off his feet. Sam swung to find Agnes directly behind him, arms outstretched. Her dark hollowed out eye sockets stood in bold contrast to her bloodless, rotting flesh. A trail of dried blood stained her thin gaunt face.

"Must die," she whispered, and it carried on the breeze growing louder as the wind increased. "Your sins show clearly in your eyes, Jerry."

Before Sam knew what was happening, he was being flung backward through the air by an unnaturally strong force, and landed precariously atop of the well. Groping for a better hold on the sides of the structure, Sam felt something pushing him downward, and his fingers began to slip.

Sudden pressure built behind his eyes, and he squinched them closed, feeling as if someone was clawing at them from the insides. "Dean," he hollered, as he slipped further into the opening of the deep well, hoping his brother would hear him, and praying he wasn't too far away to reach him in time.

Another burst of pain exploded behind his closed eyelids, sparks of white-hot light burning at his eyes. Tears slid down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyelids closed even tighter. "Dean! Help me!"

Without opening his eyes, Sam knew she was hovering over him, her hot rancid breath in his ear. His fingers bent and cracked as they were one by one pried free from the stone wall he was holding onto.

"No one can help you, Jerry. This time you will die."


End file.
